


micro@mp19752.net

by mint_chapstick



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Backstory, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, David Lieberman has been "dead" longer than a year, Developing Friendships, Explicit Language, Frank being Frank basically, Friendship, Gen, Murder, POV David Lieberman, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, believe me i tried to make it work, mentioned Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock, mostly because the official timeline Doesn't Make Sense, slight AU, starts before the death of Frank's family, the canon timeline is the bane of my existence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17639765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mint_chapstick/pseuds/mint_chapstick
Summary: It took longer than David “Micro” Lieberman had thought it would, for his heroism to come back around and bite him in the ass. He had sent the video he’d received to Agent Dinah Madani, the Homeland Security liaison stationed in Kandahar and Ahmad Zubair’s former partner, hoping that she would do something with the evidence of the man's interrogation and murder besides bury it. And then he had waited. And waited. Until the shit finally hit the fan.





	micro@mp19752.net

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this story! I recently finished watching The Punisher and absolutely fell in love with the series. I really enjoyed the development of David and Frank's friendship throughout the first season and was disappointed in not being able to find much of anything depicting David's perspective of events throughout, so I decided to write one myself. This story sticks as closely to canon as possible (see the note at the end for why that wasn't as simple as I would've liked) and starts before the events of both Daredevil and The Punisher. Basically, the questions I based this story around were these: How did David Lieberman go from being shot in the chest to living in that basement? What put Frank Castle on his radar? Having never actually met Frank, what did David think about the man? How did that change after they started working together?

            It took longer than David “Micro” Lieberman had thought it would, for his heroism to come back around and bite him in the ass. He had sent the video he’d received to Agent Dinah Madani, the Homeland Security liaison stationed in Kandahar and Ahmad Zubair’s former partner, hoping that she would do something with the evidence of the man's interrogation and murder besides bury it. And then he had waited. And waited.

            Two months after he sent the video, David was still waiting. The first couple of weeks hadn’t been awful; he’d been a bit anxious, glancing over his shoulder more often than not, but not overly paranoid. With New Year’s right around the corner though, David was getting downright jumpy. He’d encrypted the file he’d sent to Madani as a precaution, but with two months and the resources at her disposal she should have decoded it by now; the encryption itself wasn’t even custom-made. He didn’t think she would have dismissed it; after all, an email from an anonymous source with the only message being “Ahmad Zubair” and an encrypted video file titled “zubair_interrogation.mp4” arriving in her inbox barely a month after the man’s disappearance? David had done his research and he knew Dinah Madani was a smart woman; undergraduate degree from Fordham University, Masters in Islamic Studies from Columbia University, top marks at Quantico, a rising star within Homeland Security following her recruitment- David wouldn’t have sent her the video without investigating her first, and he _knew_ she was a smart woman.

            But smart didn’t mean trustworthy.

            David was in conflict with himself. He’d done his job, passed on the intelligence to someone who could act upon it; what happened after that wasn’t his responsibility. It wasn’t in his job description to follow up on what was done with actionable intelligence after he’d sent it up the chain, but the not-knowing was wearing on him. And in that came his dilemma- should he leave it alone, try to forget it and move on, or do some not-entirely legal digging into Homeland Security’s files to see what was going on, what Madani was up to?

            He thought about talking to Sarah; his wife was a good sounding board, not because she always agreed with what he was doing but because she thought of their family first and the rest of the world second. It helped keep him grounded, helped remind him that risky actions on his part wouldn’t affect just him. But the problem was, he knew she’d tell him not to do it. She’d say it wasn’t his responsibility; that he’d done his job, done what he’d thought was right and whatever happened next was in someone else’s hands. That continuing to pursue it, to get further involved, could bring trouble down on their family, trouble they didn’t need. David had thought about it though. Had thought about American soldiers executing Ahmad Zubair, how someone had had the authority to make that happen, to drag the man from his home, torture him, murder him, and then to wipe it from the books so there was no record of military involvement in the man’s death. No proof of it, except for the video. The video David had passed on to one of the only people who would have both the motivation and authority to dig deeper and discover the buried machinations of conspiracy, something the people behind the cover-up were certain to take offense to. Sure, David had covered his tracks. But there was an itch in the back of his mind asking, _how far does this go?_ That whispered, _who knows how powerful they are, how quickly they could track you down_ , and for a brief second David’s blood would run cold in his veins before he attempted to shove the thoughts to the furthest corner of his brain, trying his damnedest to ignore them.

            A few weeks after New Year’s, David jerked awake from a nightmare. Cold sweat coated his body, fear writhing in his gut like a nest of angry snakes, only beginning to subside as David registered that he was in his bedroom, his wife sleeping by his side. The image behind his eyes of himself hanging in Ahmad Zubair’s place and the phantom ringing in his ears of a pistol discharging began to fade to the dark and quiet of his house in the middle of the night. David breathed deeply, his racing heart slowing. Next to him Sarah let out a sleepy grumble, rolling onto her side. David stared across the pillow at his wife’s sleeping face, reaching out a hand to tuck a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sarah’s forehead before slipping out of bed, the mattress springs creaking beneath his shifting weight. His wife let out a soft sigh but didn’t awaken, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

            That night, sitting in his dark kitchen at 2 am, David hacked into Homeland Security’s records. He tracked down Dinah Madani’s case files and found that she had passed classified information involving Ahmad Zubair’s murder up the chain of command. As the faintest rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon, David closed out the pages of Homeland Security intel, shutting his laptop with a soft click. Knowing didn’t help as much as he’d thought it would; Madani was investigating, which was something, but he didn’t know whether that was good or bad. If she solved the case, whoever was involved would get what was coming to them and David and his family would be safe. But if they caught on to her investigation before she took them down, would they go quietly? David didn’t think so. He’d sent the video to Madani with the hope she would do something with it other than cover it up, but now that she actually seemed to be digging into it he wondered how long it would be before somebody caught wind of it and started pushing back.

            After his discovery that the Zubair case really was underway, David decided to do something with his growing paranoia rather than ignoring it and hoping the precautions he’d taken previously were enough to protect him and his family like he had been. He started stockpiling an emergency fund, making small withdrawals of cash from his bank account from time to time. He backed up all the intel he had both digitally and in hard copy form, moving all files onto a separate laptop from his personal computer and copying them onto a flash drive as well. He burned multiple DVD copies of the Zubair interrogation video and printed out the files he had collected. The USB and one set of hard copies went into a safety deposit box he reserved under a fake name while the laptop and the money went behind the back wall of his and Sarah’s closet, a thick layer of his wife’s clothes concealing any discrepancy in the paneling the creation of his hidey hole had caused.

            A little over a month later, it turned out he was right to be paranoid.

            It was early March, what seemed like a normal morning on a normal day. David was in the passenger seat of the car, his wife Sarah behind the wheel, their kids Leo and Zach in the backseat. Traffic was at a standstill, which was a bit unusual for the drive to the kids’ school, but accidents can happen on any road. The kids were starting to get antsy and impatient until Sarah suggested they play a game of twenty questions to pass the time, effectively distracting them.

            Sarah was asking Zach a question, it being his turn to come up with a person, place, or thing for them to guess. David was on his phone, scrolling through traffic reports to see if he could figure out what kind of accident had them stuck in stop-and-go traffic.

             “Your turn, Dad! Dad?”

            He was coming up empty for a reason for the slowdown. No accidents or emergencies reported; the map was even marked with a red zone but there was no explanation for the entire road being practically parked.

            “David,” Sarah said, her hand on his arm pulling his attention away from his phone.

            “Oh, sorry, you guys. Um....” His phone tucked away in his shirt pocket, David rubbed his hands together as he thought up a question. “Is it a quadruped?”

            His son looked confused, starting to say, “What’s a q-”

            “Four-legged animal. A quadruped,” David interrupted.

            “You know what that is,” his wife said, teasing their son.

            Zach grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Uh, yes,” he said, answering David’s question.

            “Okay, so we got a non-jungle-dwelling quadruped,” David began, closing his eyes as he thought.

            “Vegetarian,” Sarah was quick to remind him.

            Opening his eyes, David continued, “Four-legged vegetarian animal that does not live in the jungle….”

            Horns honked around them and next to him Sarah let out an exasperated sigh. “This is painful.”

            Zach’s voice came from the backseat, “Are we gonna be late?”

            “No,” Sarah responded, and David was quick to back her up.

             “No. No, no, no. We should be fine, you guys. I think. Everyone has the same idea we do,” he said, twisting in his seat to look back at his kids. What he saw through the back windshield terrified him to the core.

             “I wanna make it there in time,” his daughter’s voice was saying, but David wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were fixed on the armed men in body armor moving between cars, gradually growing closer to him and his family. What were the odds, he wondered, that what looked like an elite government team were after someone else besides the NSA analyst who had video proof of American soldiers executing an Afghani police officer? Probably pretty slim, if he was being honest.

            The decision he had to make was easy. “Stay in the car,” he said, reaching out to touch each of his kids, making eye contact with them for what he hoped would not be the last time, “no matter what happens.”

            “What?” Sarah questioned, confusion in her voice as she looked at David with worried eyes. “What are you doing? Babe?” She watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “What are you doing?”

            “Dad?” came his son’s voice from the backseat but David didn’t answer, leaning across the center console to briefly kiss his wife. He knew he didn’t have much time, knew he couldn’t linger so he kept the kiss short, pulling back much more quickly than a proper goodbye kiss deserved. But he knew he couldn’t stay.

            “Stay in the car,” David said over the bewildered voices of his family. “You understand?” He opened the passenger side door. “Stay in the car.” They continued to question him, calling after him as he climbed out. “Stay in the car. I’ll be right back,” he said, shutting the door behind him, muting the sound of his wife’s voice as she shouted his name.

            Walking quickly down the sidewalk, away from his car and his family, David tried to keep his glances backwards subtle. Turning the corner he passed a farmer’s market, the area busy with people milling past the stalls. Pushing through the crowd, he looked behind him. _Shit_. So they were following him. A gray-haired man in a bulletproof vest was at the head of the pursuit.

            David broke into a jog. He ran up a sloping set of concrete stairs that led to a terrace overlooking the water, benches spaced out along the perimeter of the railing around the edge.

            “Don’t move!” a voice behind him yelled, but David kept running. He tried to run across the terrace but a man in body armor carrying a gun approached, blocking him. With one man behind him and another in front, David was forced to change his path. He ran through the gap between two benches. The man in the vest yelled again, “Lieberman, get on the ground, now!”

            Clambering up onto the concrete lip along the overlook’s railing, David raised his hands. “Look, this is a mistake, all right?” he shouted, desperation in his voice as he turned to face the gray-haired man with the gun. “Whatever your orders, I'm not a criminal! I'm an NSA analyst!”

            The man either didn’t believe him or didn’t care. A warning shot rang out and David flinched back. Somewhere behind the man a woman screamed.

            “Get down!”

            “I’m an NSA analyst!” David yelled again, frantic in his attempt to get the man to stand down.

            It was like he hadn’t said a word. “He’s got a weapon!” the man in the bulletproof vest warned the officer in body armor and David’s stomach flipped with sheer fear.

            “No, I don't!” he tried to tell them, even though he had a dreadful suspicion that it wouldn’t matter. “No, no, no, no, no!” He was cornered, his back to the water; there was nowhere to run, no way to escape. “That's not true!”

            “David?!” Oh god, that was Sarah’s voice. Sarah was coming up the stairs, she couldn’t be here, go back, _go back_ -

            “This is a mistake, okay?” The man in body armor was pointing a gun at his wife, her hands were in the air, _she has to leave_ \- “This is a mistake,” David shouted again, hoping that this time, maybe, it would convince them. He stared at his wife, he needed her to _get out_ \- “Sarah, _go_.”

            Her hands were still in the air, she wasn’t leaving, why why w _hy why_ -

            “David!” she yelled again.

            “Drop the weapon!” the gray-haired man shouted angrily.

            He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Sarah!”

            The man in body armor told her to get on her knees, his gun pointed at her. She slowly sank to the ground.

            “No, no, no, no, no!” David shouted, panic in his voice. If she was on her knees she wasn’t walking, she wasn’t leaving, she needed to _leave_ -

            “David!!” _Why did she keep calling his name, she needed to GO_ -

            “No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Sarah, go!” He gestured frantically for her to leave, to go back down the stairs and _get out of here_ -

            “David!”

            “Go, go, go, go, go!” She couldn’t stay; he _needed_ her to be safe- “No!”

            The man in the bulletproof vest fired his gun and a bullet slammed into David’s chest. A weak groan of pain left his lungs at the impact, agony spreading across the left side of his body. Slowly he toppled backward over the railing, the last thing that reached his ears being his wife’s voice screaming out in horrified disbelief before he plunged beneath the surface of the water.

**Author's Note:**

> Concerning the timeline of this story- I wanted to shape it around MCU canon as best I could, but unfortunately, the canon timeline doesn't quite check out, something that has caused me great frustration.  
> The basic facts: in The Punisher season one episode three, it's shown that David sends Madani the video in October. There are fall decorations on the dining table and pumpkins and a plate of Halloween-themed cookies in the kitchen during Sarah and David's conversation about him passing the interrogation video up the chain of command. Later, after the video is sent, Carson Wolf comes to hunt David down (S1.E3). The show implies that it's still October, with Leo making a comment in the car about wanting to get to the haunted house before the line gets too long and David running past Halloween-themed stalls as he flees from Wolf and his team. According to Karen Page's research in Daredevil season two, the murder of Frank Castle's family occurred the week of April 14th. In the first episode of The Punisher, it is shown that Frank finishes his vendetta several months after the end of Daredevil season two, though a specific number isn't given. Six months later, Frank is a construction worker and encounters David. Throughout the show, it is reiterated multiple times that David's family have believed him to be dead for about a year, with David and Frank meeting in November (David wishes Frank a happy birthday while being interrogated; Frank's canonical birthday is November 15).  
> The problem: the gap between David Lieberman's supposed death in October and the murder of Frank's family in mid-April is about six months. For David to have been "dead" around a year and to join up with Castle in November, Frank's six month break from his vendetta would have to begin less than a month after the death of his family, something we know didn't happen due to the several-month canonical time window he spends hunting down the last members of the groups involved in the carousel shooting. It is also canonical that Carson Wolf et. al took down Lieberman before going after Frank Castle, making rearranging those events to try and make the timeline fit impossible. If events occur as canon says they do (David "dies" in October, Frank's family is killed in April, Frank spends six months on hiatus, David and Frank meet in November), David would have to be in hiding for a little over two years, rather than one as stated throughout the series.  
> My solution: As in canon, David Lieberman sends the video to Dinah Madani near the end of October. However, he is not hunted down until early March, a little over a month before Castle's family is killed. This allows enough time for the events surrounding Frank to play out but rather than David being "dead" for around a year as in canon or two years as in the version of the timeline that actually works around canonical dates, the time frame extends to about a year and a half.
> 
> This story doesn't really have a set update schedule as of now and though I have it almost entirely planned out I don't have much written yet. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter; please review and tell me what you think!


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